


Mortality

by Winxy



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Murder, Other, Suicide, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winxy/pseuds/Winxy
Summary: The new girl is strange, even by Derry standards.  The Bowers Gang plots a way to bully her but are beaten to the punch when a group of girl bullies get to her first, with unexpected and horrendous results.  Patrick is intrigued, for he is a god trapped in a human shell and this goddess could help his ascension greatly.





	1. The Overlook and Kurt Barlow

**Author's Note:**

> I am combining concepts and characters from three books- The Shining, 'Salem's Lot and IT. The IT is based more on the 2017 movie, but will incorporate themes from the book as well. The only time The Shining and 'Salem's Lot will be mentioned is in the first chapter to establish a backstory.
> 
> All warnings are in the tags but here goes: This story contains death, violence, blood and gore, suicide and swearing. If anything else comes up I will add to the list.

Prologue: The Overlook Hotel, Colorado. Date Forgotten.

You were too late. You couldn’t save your sisters from their grueling fate. Your father Delbert Grady had killed them all. You told him that this place was bad for them, but he chalked it up to female hysteria and beat the shit out of his wife for not giving him a son. You watched in stunned silence as you toured the bloodstained halls, stopping at the door to room 217 to examine your sisters. They were prone on the floor, and a naive glimmer of hope surged through your body until you rolled one of the twins over.  
The congealed blood had stopped pouring a while ago and began to stink, the stench already attracting flies who had begun laying eggs into the deep gashes. You let out a few whimpers, feeling wet warmth running down your legs before screaming yourself horse. You clutch your sisters’ corpses close to your body crying into their hair and kissing them over and over. You see the ax used to murder them close by and had a feeling he was nearby.

The mix of emotions you felt right now couldn’t be described in a single word-fear, sadness, rage and loathing for your father compelled you to take up the weapon and go on the hunt. You opened the door to room 217 and walked in, to see your mother nude in the tub, bruises in the shape of handprints around her neck. She was as much to blame as he was-she wouldn’t listen to you either, despite the notable change in her husband’s character. Before this place, he was so kind, not so much as raising his voice at his family much less outright beatings.

Pushing past your mother, you made your way to the bedroom where you assumed your father was waiting for you. You raised the ax like a batter about to knock the ball out of the fucking park but were greeted with your father lying on the bed, with brain matter cascading the head board and a fountain of blood flowing from his nose. His dead eyes looked directly at you, apologetically. The shotgun he used to blow his head off sprawled on the floor, the recoil having knocked it off the bed. You lowered the ax and stared for what seemed to be forever. You remembered what woke you up in the first place-the sound of a single gun shot. You were shoved into the freezer by Halloran, the new cook at the Overlook and given the keys to lock the door from the inside. You were so exhausted from running from Grady that you fell asleep, the shot your heard shook the very foundation of the hotel as if to announce it’s triumph over the Grady family.

When you came back to the present time, you realized that you were robbed of your revenge and began hacking at the surroundings with your ax. A few minutes later, you had to stop and catch your breath. Out of the corner of your eye you see your sisters, whole and beautiful. You know this can’t be real, but you let sentimentality take hold of you and reached out to them with tears of joy flowing freely. They reciprocated the gesture and said in unison “Come play with us, Y/N…”  
You get up and go to them, almost within finger tips brushing when you see the whole thing unfold right before your eyes-their father coming after them and being cut down in the beginning of their lives. You scream their names, but the entire thing just loops over and over again, until the point where you take hold of the ax’s blade and slit your own wrists just so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

On the brink of death, the visions finally stopped when a man in black appeared. You couldn’t make out details at all, being on death’s door ensured that but you were able to hear just fine. He knelt to your side and felt him lift your bleeding wrist and take a few licks from one, then the other. “My name is Kurt Barlow and I can give you immortality…”

Okay, now you were REALLY losing it. “With no due respect, Mr. Barlow go fuck yourself” you chuckled. 

“I am willing to let that slide for now, but in the future such impudence will not be tolerated” he put a hand colder than death on your shoulder “I am a vampire, and I can give you the gift as well. This place is filled with evil spirits, some of which used to be good. They are all bound to the Overlook forever, to be tortured day in and day out. Do you really want that?”

His voice was growing more distant by the second but you knew what you were going to do “Su-Save me…” You then felt a new wetness draining down the front of your throat. You were bleeding and the man in black was biting you, but you felt a surge of liquid fire coursing through your veins. Barlow’s vampire venom made its rounds through you. It was killing you yet breathing new life into you at the same time.

Your senses returned to you all at once and were enhanced. You were able to see, smell and hear everything that has happened at the Overlook and things that will happen. You cannot help but grin, that damn boiler would be the end of this place in due time. Barlow felt the need to explain- “your soul is dead, but your body thrives on the blood of others. You cannot walk in the sun, go into religious establishments, gaze upon their icons and a stake through your heart would kill you instantly.”

“But wouldn’t a stake through the heart kill anybody?” you ask sarcastically.

He laughed a low, hollow laugh and said “I suppose. The last bit of advice I’ll offer you is this-when hunting, do not bite down on any creature unless you intend to turn it into a vampire” he turned and daintily walked out of the way of the corpses.

“Wait! Aren't you gonna take me under your wing and teach me how to hunt?!” you ask in all seriousness now. “Take responsibility for turning me!”

He turned on his heel and said “You chose this life! Take responsibility for your own damn self! I told you the basics so you don’t overpopulate the world with vampires or die the minute I turn my back on you!”

You felt your body shift into something inhuman, your limbs elongating with you walking on all fours like a hound. You were unable to articulate your thoughts, but he seemed to hear you anyway. “I only came here because I was tired and needed a place to stay for a few days to rest up. I pitied you” you leaped at him but he easily swatted you away like a fly. You knew that you were no match for him any day of the week so you sulked away with your tail between your legs. You were able to take human form again once your rage died down and you turned your back on the Overlook for good.

Derry, Maine. 29 Neibolt Street. 1986.

You had laid low these years, and were genuinely happy to learn about Barlow’s death in Jerusalem’s Lot. It was ironic, really-he had gone and done the very thing he was afraid you would do! In all your years trapped in the body of a seventeen year old girl, that was the most gleeful bit of news you came across regarding vampires. You also knew that without a leader to guide them, the vampires of ‘Salem’s Lot were running amok but for some reason stayed away from this quaint little town of Derry. You felt that this was the hunting ground for a different supernatural predator, but now it was in hibernation so at least for the time being you were free to do as you pleased here. Perhaps you’d even find a person worthy enough of being a vampire! All the others that had found out about your real being have begged, even KILLED to be made vampires. In the end, you grew bored with them and fed off them by first slicing their heads off with your blade and letting the blood spurts fall on your face, your mouth wide open and fangs bared. It felt like warm rain on your cold, almost transparent skin.

Of course you had to keep up appearances like having to enroll at school and go to classes with other kids. From years of experience, you learned that you can go outside in the daytime, but only if it was cloud covered or if you were clothed from head to foot. You explained that you had a medical condition that you were photosensitive and any exposure to direct sunlight would mean death for you. You even had a doctor’s note that explained this, now all that was left to do was to orchestrate your untimely demise in a years time so you could move on.

One small group of boys caught your attention, mostly because of the negative emotions radiating off of them like stink lines in comic books. And it appears that you have caught their attention as well, most of all the tall creepy kid that you heard associated with the name Patrick Hockstetter. He looked at you like a piece of meat, something to be conquered. You smiled inwardly at yourself, getting the feeling that one of these days he might just be a meal.


	2. The Massacre in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bowers Gang watches the bloodiest fight they've ever seen.

Derry, Maine. Early 1987.

You received weird looks everywhere you went in this damn town, you couldn’t blame them though. Would wouldn’t gawk at a girl in all black covered from head to toe with various clothing items and accessories? It was around Christmas time that you actually befriended the Marsh girl, and her father seemed quite pleased that his little girl had finally made a female friend and were invited over often. You had to act like you didn’t know what was going on, but the walls had eyes, ears and mouths. They told you EVERYTHING, and you had to restrain yourself from hurdling yourself over the table and ripping his spine from his body. The very thought of seeing his head in your hands with the eye sockets punched in and you quoting Shakespeare made the hound inside you howl and after every encounter you’d have to go on a hunt for big game to satisfy it.

“You know Bev, you can come stay with me in the Neibolt house anytime you want” you offered with genuine concern. You knew about those nasty rumors the other twats spread about her, and even without having to taste their blood for the truth you knew that they knew the rumors weren’t true. They just didn’t like Bev for some reason. 

“I know Y/N” she grimaced “but I’d much rather deal with my father myself than come crying to someone to come save me. But the fact that you actually LIVE at 29 makes most people here wary to let you in…” she took your hand in a loving gesture, just like the twins used to do. You didn’t pull your hand away or freeze up, it was a natural feeling of love that had left your life that day at the Overlook.

“You’re very resourceful, Bev” you reassured her “I’ve seen you fight off that bitch Greta or whatever her name is. Her pervert father runs the drug store right?”  
“Yeah!” she giggled “All I gotta do is turn on the Bev Marsh charm and he’s puddy in my hands!”

“Just be careful, Bev” you ask “He’s a creep and the whole town knows it. Probably giving Greta an extra helping of secret sauce with her dinner” you combined this with the motion of jerking off, to which you both cackled like hens to yourselves.

After school the next day, Greta and the BItch Brigade (your and Bev’s term for Greta and her friends as a collective) cornered you alone in the hallway to confront you about what was spoken between friends yesterday. “I heard what you were calling my dad yesterday with your whore friend Beverly! Let’s go!” she and her Brigade were prepared to fight when a devilish grin came across your face.

“I’d love to rumble with you and your girls, Greta but can I suggest we do it in the school’s basement? So we don’t get interrupted?”

Greta’s friends looked to her cautiously but her resolve was unwavering “Sure, whatever! Expect a beat down!”

Around the corner the Bowers Gang had hidden and were listening in, the excitement building in them at the thought of a bunch of girls fighting. Their mouths drooled at the imagery of seeing a shirt get ripped to expose a bra, or even the holy mother of female anatomy-a breast. They chuckled to themselves and proceeded to rush to the basement before you girls so they could get good seats.

When you all got to the dark basement, you quickly turned on the lights and were met with a single punch to the corner of your mouth. It seemed that Greta had ordered one of her troops to throw the first blow, and you acted like it hurt. Your face turned down to the floor had blood dripping from it, and the very taste of it in your mouth made you hungry for human blood. “Not so tough now, are ya?!” Greta shouted and her witches began to shriek with laughter.

You looked back up, the transformation into the hound just beginning. Your completely black eyes and ashen skin were scary enough but your full set of razer teeth were more than enough to send the attackers running toward the door. Only Greta escaped the massacre because she had shut and locked the door behind her. The others began clawing at the door to no avail and you smiled, their screams of terror egging you on. The hound had thrashed itself against your frame, but you wanted to have a little fun with your meal first, even though you knew it was bad manners to play with your food.

You rushed at the tightly knit group with full speed, your claws clamping down on an arm and ripping it clean off. A resounding “WHAT THE FUCK?!” echoed through the room, your hearing allowing you to locate the exact location of your viewers. You were vaguely aware of their presence from their scents but the shout had confirmed your suspicions. You didn’t have time for that right now, your attention was on the bleeding girl and her frightened friends.

“Now that we have an audience, ladies…” you shuddered your shoulders and the hound was ready to make its debut to Derry High “LET’S PUT ON A SHOW!” you finished your transformation in mid air, the hounds claws digging into the back of a different victim. You were scratching the flesh like a dog trying to dig a hole in the dirt, and within seconds you dug your snout into the bone and yanked out her spine in one swift motion. You whipped the backbone around like a lasso, droplets of blood splattering from the nerve stem.

The girl with the missing arm tried to scramble away, but the hound dove right into her belly with its paws. With the abdominal cavity exposed and open, you shoved the muzzle into her innards. Ripping out the intestine, you gleefully chowed down on it with aplomb. Her whimpers were so weak now that she was too close to death to be made a vampire, so in an act of mercy you slashed her throat to end her wicked life.

With one more left to dispatch, you let out a low, rumbling growl and slowly walked toward her “Please no! I promise not to tell anyone! Just please let me go!” the stink of feces invaded the hound’s nostrils and you sneezed in disgust. The trembling girl then began foaming at the mouth and collapsed against the wall. You were puzzled by the sudden stop of activity and placed the hound’s ear over her heart. She had had a heart attack, the girl having died of fright.

You were somewhat peeved that you couldn’t get this last kill but it was no matter. You began to lick up the blood that was spilled from the floor, and felt the hound recede back into your human form. You were naked and covered in blood-and you loved everything about the moment. You licked your fingers, hands and arms clean (as much as you could anyway) and turned suddenly to see the tall, creepy kid staring at you. 

“Hockstetter, I presume?” you said nonchalantly as if you were fully clothed and not covered in blood.

“Yeah” he managed a low, breathy whisper. From the moment he saw you rip off that girls arm, he knew you were different. You may be just another hallucination like everyone else in this world, but you were the closest thing to a deity he had ever seen. He saw the raw, destructive power you had and he wanted that too. He was a god trapped in a human shell, and when the hound showed itself he knew you could help him ascend to the throne of divinity. 

“Where are your friends?” you asked “Did they run off?”

He grunted, his erection rather painful as he tried to answer you “Y-yeah…they always get scared when they see something get between our plans” you can’t help but stare at the bulge in his pants. He was getting off on seeing all this carnage! You gather your things (the remains of your clothes and backpack) and begin to walk out when he pulls you back rather roughly and slams your back into the door.

You couldn’t call the hound to you now, it had just gorged itself on a buffet of little girls and was sound asleep in your mind. Your more basic instincts took over and you bared your fangs at him “What do you want?!”

He drew in closer, as if he were about to kiss you but instead his lips brushed your ear ever so softly and whispered “You” and began to lick off the remaining blood from your neck. From the recent feeding frenzy, all your senses were abuzz with activity and touch was especially sensitive. His light kisses and swirling tongue felt like feathers, the sensation of being tickled bought back memories of your first love.  
You snapped back to reality and when his grip in your wrists loosened you extended your claws and bought them down on his exposed cheek. He let out a cry of pain mixed with pleasure as he stumbled back. You were horrified to see a localized stain in his pants, the stench not of urine but something even more vulgar filled the air. “Did you just cream your jeans?!” you shriek.

He looked back at you with a dopey, satisfied grin on his face. The sweat mixed with blood acted like an aphrodisiac for him “Yeah” he chuckled “that was the best nut I busted in a long time” he then gingerly kissed your lips and let his teeth brush against your lip “thanks, babe” he just walked away and you let him, too stunned to let him do anything else.  
It was big news all over the school the next few days that Greta had been carted off kicking and screaming to Juniper Hill, that she was raving about a werewolf killing her friends. The bodies hadn’t been discovered yet thank goodness but when the Bowers Gang came across your path, all but him blanched and quickly hurried the other way. He just winked and blew him kisses. He was just a human, but no human you have ever come across. He was rude, crude and vulgar-all things you despised but somehow you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

A few days later, he approached you with that smug grin of his and a bandage on his cheek where you grazed him. You couldn’t talk to him as a vampire here, but as a normal human girl. You shrank back and acted like you were afraid, to which he said “Come meet my friends. They’ve been dying to meet you!” he took your hand in his, giving off the impression that you two were dating.

When you were out of earshot of others you reach under your many layers of clothes and finger your small knife you kept stashed in your belt. He was the first human to put you on edge and you needed to be sure of his intentions “Where the Hell are we going?” you asked, his hand never leaving yours.  
“Just to Henry’s place” he said smiling “I want to show you off to the guys.”

You had heard enough and dragged him into the alley. You grab him by the neck and applied pressure, the action taking him by surprise as he struggled for breath. His legs were kicking out of reflex and your eyes went completely black “Listen here, maggot. You aren’t worth the shit that I scrape off my shoe so stop trying to establish dominance over me. We both know that I can and will kill you at any time. So behave and I wont leave you nothing but a torso. Do I make myself clear?”

He couldn’t speak but he nodded an affirmative gesture with his head. You let him fall to the concrete, gasping and coughing. You kick him down again and keep your boot on his backside “Be honest with me. What do you want with me?” He mumbled something but you couldn’t hear it, so you remove your foot and let him turn over “what was that?”  
He was silent for a long moment then in a hoarse voice “I want what you have…whatever power you have, I need it to reach my goal” he got up and towered over you, trying to be intimidating.

“And what exactly IS your goal, Hockstetter?” you meet his gaze undaunted.

“I want to become a god” he said simply “like you”. 

You couldn’t believe what he was saying to you. He sounded so arrogant and sure of himself that all you could say to him was “Give me your palm” he did as he was told and you pressed your nail into the flesh. He let out a hiss of pain and you saw the blood pool to the surface. You bring his hand to your lips and begin to see all of his truths. Jesus Christ he was serious, he actually thought he was a god. In all your travels in your short life as a vampire, only a handful of legends have seen this kind of insanity. They inflicted maximum damage on the world, and damn it you weren’t going to be responsible for making the next scourge of the land a fucking vampire on top of his crazy. You left him in that alley to do whatever he pleased.

A few more months had passed when the Neibolt house started to change. Not in appearance but its spirit had formed a new malice-one much older and more sinister than any of the mythical vampires that were rumored to have existed at one point in time. You were just sleeping on the dusty mattress in the basement where no light could hit you when you woke with a start. Suddenly you weren’t in the Neibolt house anymore but back at the Overlook. Your stomach hit the bottom of your core as you were pushed to the door of room 217. The outside force moved you to reach for the doorknob, but you were pulled out of the illusion by the clown. “You’re not human…” he said.

“No” you said plainly “and neither are you” you say, mentally preparing for an escape. You knew you couldn’t hope to even stand a chance against it.

“I’ll give you the chance to run away, live to feed another day” it offered “my hibernation is over and these are MY hunting grounds now” the both of you were very territorial due to your natures so you offered a bargain.

“Fine, I’ll ship out, only if you do something for me…”

“Name it” he said, the clown paint widening to a smile.


	3. The Gift of the Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find that you cannot hope to win against the clown, so you give your proper goodbyes.

Derry, Maine. Summer, 1988.

The last few months without you around were all fun and games for the neighborhood bullies, especially the Bowers Gang. You couldn’t go out in the daytime due to the sun beating down, even with all your layers of clothes you’d burn up faster than a candle on a birthday cake. Most of the gang had convinced themselves that what they saw you do in the school basement was a dream they all had but dared not talk about out loud, even with each other. Today their particular target was Beverly Marsh who was more annoyed than anything with their advances.  
“Hey slut! Wanna come hang out with us?” Henry taunted as she was spotted leaving the Aladdin with her friends from the Losers Club. It was just after sunset so you decided to go out and about Derry’s night life. Your recent kill was smeared all over your face and clothes, Greta having been not much of a match for you. Since that day, you were just waiting for the opportune moment to strike her down. The most dishonorable display of abandoning her girls to your blood lust was distasteful, even worse than smelling the commingled aromas of urine, shit and semen from that night. You lured her out of her house when she was alone at home with horribly mimicked howling. You heard her heartbeat begin to beat faster then the sweet smell of fear wafted in your face. You now understood why the clown loved it so much. 

Greta took on look at you and tried to run, but you were on top of her in an instant, not even bothering to call the hound. You put your boot on her chest and began to pull on her hair. “Stop! You’ll kill me!” she tried to scream but it only came as a frog croak.

“You should have thought about that when you left your friends to die” you told her point blank and lifted up your sunglasses to show your black eyes and looked directly at her. All the souls of your victims resided in your blood, with them all the emotions that they felt at the time of their demise. Her friends had clawed their way to the surface and began shouting at her telepathically. When you had had enough of Greta’s annoying bawling for forgiveness you resumed pulling.

The first sounds of death were her Cervical Vertebrae cracking, then shattering-an almost instant end as her nerves were abruptly cut off. But you wanted her to be made and example of. The neck muscles gave way and you saw the skin peel back in both directions, exposing the pink meat inside. Then when the carotid artery finally broke apart, the spray of blood reminded you of a sprinkler for the lawn, and how kids would run through the path of the water in the summer. Without so much as a second through, you dove your mouth into the blood, not caring about cleanliness.

When Greta was bleed dry, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve, smearing it even more. You were satisfied for now, so you made sure to go around town unseen to make your way back to the Neibolt house. You heard the familiar voice of Henry Bowers soliciting a girl for group sex with him and his friends. You also had a very good idea as to WHO he was soliciting, so you waited in the alley just outside the Aladdin to see what was going down. You glanced at Greta’s head in your grasp and grinned to yourself. She’d have a purpose after all!  
“Leave me alone Bowers! I’d never screw you or your friends! But if I were you I’d be more worried about what happened to Patrick!” she retorted. Your smile grew wider and could barely hold back a devilish chuckle. The clown had kept his end of the bargain, now all that was left was to get the Hell out of Dodge but you wanted to say goodbye to Beverly first.

You heard the familiar sound of a switchblade being pressed, and the two other boys in the Bowers Gang looked nervously to each other and pleaded “Henry, lets just go...” he brushed them off and scolded them but upon turning towards you, he saw your blood stained figure and the severed head in your hand and his blood ran cold. Everyone else turned to see what made him so scared and they visibly jumped at the sight.

Beverly recognized you with shock and awe “Y/N!” she was more concerned that you were injured than a murderer so she quickly ran to you with a million questions. You instructed her to go to the Neibolt house in an hour, and not to worry about what her father would say, that she would take care of him after you were finished with the Bowers Gang.

Your eyes locked with the three boys, and you forced them into the alley using your hypnotic gaze. You broke the trance with your sunglasses blocking your line of sight, the three boys pressing themselves against the wall as you advanced. Henry was far too afraid of you to speak, but the blonde boy Victor spoke in a shaking voice “W-we know how to kill you!” he produced a wooden pencil from his pocket, while the big one nicknamed Belch took out a crude crucifix fashioned out of two sticks tied together with a shoelace.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself from the sheer stupidity but when you did, you took hold of Victor’s hand and placed the sharp end on your heart and said “Do it then, but do it right” your face never met his, and to illustrate your power over them you grabbed the crucifix with your bare hand, the thing causing your skin to sizzle and smoke. “Put a stake through my heart, cut off my head, burn my corpse and spread the ashes at a crossroads” you felt Victor tense up like he was going to do it but then he lowered his hand and Belch let go of the crucifix. You easily snapped the two twigs in four different parts and tossed them aside “I knew you never had the balls to do anything other than taunt...” 

You turned your back on them to go to Beverly’s house when you hear “HENRY NO!” and you instinctively turn and pull out your own hunting knife, pinning Bowers to the ground. You drag your blade across his cheek, and lick the surfacing blood. You were taken by surprise at the dirty taste and let him roll away. It was enough to make you vomit up all the blood you took from Greta, leaving giant, stinking clots on the pavement. You saw all his past discrepancies, from poisoning a dog to the encounter with Hockstetter in the junkyard. Not to mention all the times his cop father pushed him to the brink of insanity with his abuse. It didn’t take you long to foresee the inevitable fate Henry and his friends had in store for them and you finally vomited up a ball of hair clotted with blood.  
The hound was furious, the taste of unclean blood sending it into a frenzy. You felt that it was forcing you to change, but you had to wrestle with it to keep it down. The three boys were too stunned to run away and you looked up at them with the hound’s features forming on your face “Leave those kids you were just bothering alone!” you swung out a hand and took out a chuck on the brick wall above their heads, causing them to scatter.

You didn’t have time to stop by Beverly’s house to deal with her father, you needed blood to replace the amount you lost, so you hurried onto the Neibolt house. There, you found not only Beverly but her six friends. They were all scared shitless of you but Beverly must have put in a good word for you with them or she would not have bought them here. “Y/N” she said “We need an explanation. Now” she was firm but concerned.

So you told them everything, up to the point where you tasted Henry’s blood and threw up all the blood you ate that day. You were weaker than you’d ever have been as a vampire, your skin hanging off your bones causing more concern in Beverly’s eyes. She somehow knew what she had to do and cut her palm on a broken piece of glass and offered it to you “Drink” she simply said.

You and her friends stared at her in horror, from the time you met her you could have never taken her blood by force, but she was offering it to you of her own free will. “Bev, I can’t...”

“Shut up and drink” she shoved the bleeding palm onto your lips and you couldn’t help but lick it up. This was the cleanest, sweetest blood you’ve ever tasted and you didn’t want to leave but you had to. You pressed your thumbnail into your pointer finger and blood formed on the surface.

“A gift from me to you” you said, all the kids looking at it warily.

“Will it turn me into a vampire?” she asked.

“No. The venom is in my teeth. Simply drinking a single drop of my blood will prepare you mentally for what’s coming, so that you don’t lose your sanity” Beverly was unsure of what to do, but nonetheless she extended her tongue to it and licked the blood off your finger.

“Well Bev?” asked the kid in glasses “do you feel any different?”

“No” she answered, but she was suddenly more aware of her surroundings “what’s coming for us, “Y/N?”

You contemplated your answer a moment and finally said “A monster. Only a man can kill a monster...”

Beverly suddenly smiled and said “We ain’t no men!”

It was then you knew everything would be alright and you could leave Derry with no regrets. Beverly had a good head on her shoulders, and now with your blood in her veins she could protect her friends and herself from multiple enemies. As you watched them go, a red balloon attached to a medium sized box, the sender was a Mr. Bob Grey and a note that read “A small token of my appreciation, and proof that I kept my end of the deal...” 

You opened the box to see the eyeless, sunken skull of Patrick Hockstetter staring up at you, some of his dried flesh still clinging to the bone. Bits of his hair were still on the scalp, and when you pulled it back the top of the skull came off to reveal a hollowed out brain cavity. The clown had made you a cup to drink from. You lifted the thing from the box and beamed proudly at it and said “Well, Hockstetter you just got your wish-you wanted me to drink from you and now I can!” your shrill laughter filled the air, the wind carrying your cackles like a witch riding her broom on the sky.

Your time in Derry was over, but at least you had a new memento to look back on these times. Over the years that would pass, you’d find yourself talking to Patrick’s head and sometimes you imagine it responding to you, forever with that Cheshire cat grin.

THE END


End file.
